When Conn arrived at the house Parax was frying two large steaks. ‘Where is the fat woman?’ he asked.
‘She was one of the dead,’ said Parax, gloomily. ‘Phaeton’s revenge, eh?’
‘I think he liked her,’ said Conn. ‘She was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘As were we – for a while,’ said Parax, turning the steaks.
The two men sat in silence and ate the steaks which, though they looked fine, were tough and hard to chew. ‘Should have been hung for a few days,’ muttered Parax. ‘But the meat came from a bull killed by the raiders.’
After he had finished his meal Conn strolled out through the back of the house and washed in a stream that flowed from the north. The water was cold and refreshing. Leaving his weapons at the house he rode back to the remains of the Long Hall. Most of the roof had fallen in, but the storm rains had saved the western section of the hall. He found Tae sitting at the old stone hearth, a fire blazing. She had a blanket around her shoulders, and was staring into the dancing flames.
Conn walked into the ruin and sat opposite her. Her face was streaked with dirt and soot, and the marks of tears showed on her cheeks. ‘I am sorry for your loss, Tae,’ he said. She nodded, but did not answer. The fire began to die down. Conn added wood.
‘You will be leaving tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I will report to the Long Laird. He will send men with seasoned timber for the rebuilding.’
‘Safe journey,’ she whispered.
‘I love you, Tae,’ he said suddenly, the words shocking him, for he had not intended to say them.
‘I know,’ she replied. ‘But this is not the time to speak of it.’
‘Would you rather be alone now?’ he asked.
She shook her head and gave him a wan smile. ‘I am alone, whether you are here or not. We are all alone. We are born alone and we die alone. In between we may be touched by love, but we are still alone.’
‘Aye, there is truth in that,’ he told her. ‘But not the complete truth.’ Reaching out he took her hand, and gently squeezed it. ‘I am here, and with this touch we are one.’ Moving alongside her he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her into an embrace. Kissing her head he hugged her to him. ‘Not one of the creatures of blood can escape death,’ he said. ‘We all face it, and succumb to it. It follows us like a dark shadow. Yet if we live in terror of it, then we do not live at all. Yes we are born alone, and yes we will die alone. But in between, Tae, we live. We know joy. I am a lonely man. I think I always have been. But I am not lonely now. Not at this moment.’
Tae said nothing, but he felt her snuggle into him, and he sat quietly, stroking her hair. She fell asleep against his chest. Conn remained, unmoving as time slid by and the fire faded. At last he gently lowered her to the floor, made a pillow of his cloak, and covered her with her blanket. Then he banked the fire and rose, turning towards the door.
There stood Fiallach, a towering figure, his face expressionless.
Conn moved across to him and the two men walked out into the night.
‘You found him?’ asked Conn.
‘Aye, I found him,’ answered Fiallach. Lifting a blood-drenched pouch he opened it. He tried to tip the contents into his palm, but they were stuck to the leather. Dipping his fingers into the pouch he pulled forth Phaeton’s eyes. They had already begun to shrivel. ‘The bastard will be blind in the Void for eternity,’ he said.
‘He deserves it,’ said Conn.
Fiallach put the eyes back into the pouch, then wiped his hand down his leggings. ‘How is Tae?’
‘Suffering. But she is strong.’
‘She is a fine woman, Connavar. Perhaps the finest. She deserves the best of men. Are you the best of men?’